The Farm
by Nigel Yearning
Summary: Some old records were left behind on the farm, but not all records were on paper or digital storage.


_**Disclaimer:**__** Pokemon is owned by Nintendo, this story is made for non-profit purposes only.**_

_**Claimer: Go to my FanFiction or deviantART profile for more details.**_

He eased off the clutch a little, the pickup truck slowed as he made the turn. His Emolga snuggled into his side as the pickup's heater blast through her fur. The Xenon high beams illuminated the dark back-country roads. Yellow and white signs glowed in the darkness, warning him of turns and other hazards. The round metric speed signs flashing the number forty kept appearing every third of a kilometer. He eased off the clutch again as he drove around yet another curve.

"It's spooky here, Mark," said Henry, who was riding shotgun. "There hadn't been a single streetlamp since we left Faraday City."

"You're afraid of the dark, Henry?" Mark asked.

"Emo?" Mark's Emolga added.

"No, I am not afraid of the dark. I just can't see shit out here."

"Look, we've brought along LED lantern flashlights. They're just as bright as the high beams on my pickup."

"Will it do any good against ghosts?"

Mark made a face. "There's no such thing as ghosts, Henry. You think some guy wearing a bed sheet over his head would just pop out of nowhere and try to scare us?"

"Don't be silly, Mark. Pokémon had _died _on that farm. Folks say that farm was special, the Pokémon who lived on the property were bound to it somehow. Heck, they were even buried there!"

"We're not going to a massacre site, Henry," said Mark. "If there are any ghosts, I'm sure they won't be hostile."

Henry shook his head. "Your dad and his dad said this farm belonged to the late Irvin Westinghouse?"

Mark nodded. "And our still-living friend, Tesla."

They drove on without further comment, the roads twisted and curved through the hills and forest. Mark squinted and slowed down. "There's the road."

It was a gravel road, pop-marked with grass and some moss. An olive green mailbox was posted at the foot of the driveway. Over half a century of constant assault from the elements had bleached its surface and rotted its post. The name "Westinghouse" was painted on the side in yellow letters. They were so faded that they seem to appear and disappear, like they were popping in and out of reality itself.

Mark turned onto the gravel road and stopped. "Give me a second, I wanna check out that mailbox."

Henry nodded, but said nothing.

Mark opened the car door, the frigid winter air blast against his face. He circled the pickup and approached the mailbox. Mark grabbed the lid and tugged it, the lid squealed a metallic groan. He peered inside the mailbox, half-expecting something to pop out.

It was empty.

He shut the mailbox and walked back to the pickup truck, "What did you find?" Henry asked as Mark climbed back into the driver seat.

"Nothing," he said, "No mail or magazines or anything."

"Does your grandpa come around here often?"

"He says he does. If this place still gets bills, then it must be forwarded to his house."

"He ever mentioned about selling it?"

Mark shook his head, "No, not a peep about it."

The duo drove down the gravel road, it churned and crunched under the pickup's off-road tires. Mark glanced over the car's digital clock, it read 23:34. Only thirty-six minutes till midnight.

"You sure it was a good idea to come out here at night, Mark?" Henry asked.

"I'm not sure," said Mark. "If Carley were here, she would say it was a bad idea. Hey, had you heard from her?"

"I heard she was heading over to Johto to visit some friends, the region's economy has been booming lately."

"Johto's economy had been steadily growing for the past five years now, while Sinnoh and Hoenn is going through a steady decline. It shook the stock market a lot."

"There hadn't been much growth for Unova, its stable compared to Faraday Island."

Henry sat back and glanced out the window. "I wonder what kind of world our parents had lived in, along-side with Irvin and Tesla."

"Vastly different," said Mark. "No doubt about it."

The bare skeleton of trees gave way to a small hill. Thick frost coated the dead grass, shimmering under the high beams. On the hill was a large one-story house. The facade was constructed out of brick, a building material rarely used in modern house construction. The windows were boarded with fresh plywood. They looked like they were glued on rather than nailed into place. Large silicon solar-panels covered every corner of the roof, horribly bleached with age. One of the panels had a spider web of cracks in it. Water had gotten into the solar panel, turning the navy blue panel into a sickly gray.

Despite its age, the house was still in good condition. Mark closed his eyes and thought back at his grandfather's stories: Many of Irvin's Pokémon had lived and died on the property, both in and around the house. There were usually two causes of death, accidental suicide or old age. These Pokémon had lived a long and happy life in this house, until Irvin's death.

"According to Tesla and my grandfather," said Mark. "Some Pokémon had committed suicide after learning Irvin's death, the house was believed to have contained their essence."

"Are we going to spend the night here?" Henry asked.

Mark shook his head. "No, I just wanna take a quick look around inside. We can poke around further next week."

Mark parked the pickup in front of the garage and killed the engine. He and Henry grabbed their lantern flashlights. Henry clicked his on, the whole cab got a big dose of a thousand lumens of light.

"AH!" Mark cried.

"EM!" Emolga yelped.

Henry quickly thumbed the switch and the light clicked off.

"F*ck," Mark cried as he rubbed the spots out of his eyes, "That's more brighter than New Year's Day!"

Henry blinked as he lowered the flashlight, "Are you okay, Mark?"

"I'm fine, man. I'll live."

"Emo." Emolga nodded.

Mark shut off the pickup's high beams, the whole world went pitch-black, "Let's get this done."

The duo got out of the pickup truck and then clicked on their lantern flashlights. Bright columns of artificial light beamed into the starless night. Emolga awed, the light seemed to comfort her.

"You're scared, Emolga?" Mark asked.

Emolga made a sheepish nod but said nothing.

Mark cradled her in his arms and spoke. "Don't worry, this place doesn't have a single drop of evil in it. _If _this place is indeed haunted, the ghost here might be friendly and will not try to harm us."

"But they'll still try to kick our ass for amusement," Henry added.

"What can ghost do other than make spooky sounds?"

"Move sh*t around, I think. Sometimes they can possess inanimate objects, creating . . . what, poltergeists?"

Mark moaned, "Poltergeists, great. So if a single picture frame goes crooked without warning, would that be considered a poltergeist?"

"Depends on how fast the picture frame turns."

Emolga folded her arms, Mark could see her breath as she exhaled, "Emo," she muttered.

"You're cold, Emolga?" Mark asked.

"Emo," she nodded.

He opened the pickup and rooted beneath the car seat. He pulled out a sling with a custom-made pouch. It was brown, fitted with warm materials. "This might work," said Mark, "Here, Emolga, try this on."

Mark put the sling on and fitted Emolga into the pouch, she wiggled around until her body was settled into its final position. "Em!" she chirped.

"Damn, Mark," snickered Henry. "Are you then going to sing her to sleep?"

"Might as well let Carley dress her up like a stuffed animal and put her on a shelf, or maybe wrap her up in a blanket and feed her warm milk."

Henry laughed, "How about sticking a tutu on her?"

The duo laughed for a moment. Henry then stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a Poké ball, "Come out, Raichu!"

The Poké ball opened and a white plasma beam arched out, it touched the ground and Raichu materialized before Henry's feet. The Mouse Pokémon gave him a look, Henry groaned, "Why are you mad at me, Raichu?"

"Rai Rai!" Raichu swore.

Mark laughed. "Probably because you stuck him in a Poké ball."

"Well, there isn't much room in that pickup, Mark, and I don't want Raichu freezing his tail in the back!"

Mark nodded. "Good point there."

Raichu turned towards the house. He froze, his eyes bulging wide, "Raichu!"

The Mouse Pokémon rushed up to Henry and wrapped his stubby arms around his trainer's legs, "What's wrong, Rai Rai?" Henry asked.

"Raichu," Raichu pleaded, "Rai Rai!"

Mark took a good look at Raichu, then turned back at the house. There wasn't anything obvious that was ominous, "Yeah, I guess after 20 years their essence is still fresh."

The group stepped up to the front door, already Mark saw something out of place. "The welcome mat looks new."

"What?" Henry asked.

Mark pointed to the welcome mat. It was black, mostly free of mud. "I've seen this kind of welcome mat every time I go to the store, looks like my grandfather still bother to come here."

"How come we were never invited?"

"Well, I got a feeling we're about to find out."

Mark examined the doorknob. Instead of the usual bio-metric and number pad lock, it was an old fashioned deadbolt. Odd, Mark hadn't seen a single key hole in his neighborhood. Yeah, this place was definitely old.

"Give me a second," said Mark, "I'm going to pick the lock."

Henry asked, "Is there a burglar alarm or something?"

"If there is, it might be shot. Older alarms don't send an emergency signal to the police. Even if this alarm does the phone line was cut a long time ago, so we don't have to worry about the cops."

Mark pulled out his lock-picking tools and got to work. The dead-bolt's aging tumblers were easy to pick, Mark unlatched the lock without a problem. The doorknob was a little trickier, it was loose in the door and it was hard to grip. Nonetheless, the lock clicked and surrendered. "Okay," Mark said. "Let's see what's inside."

He twisted the doorknob and pushed. A blast of putrid air emerged from the darkness. Mark staggered away as his senses were overwhelmed, "For f*ck's sake!"

Emolga buried her nose into the pouch as the foul air blast past her. Henry and Raichu weren't so lucky, the blast hit them hard, sending them tumbling to the ground, "Oh, it smells like death!" Henry said as he covered his nose.

"Rai!" Raichu squealed.

The Mouse Pokémon's face turned green, he hobbled off into the tall grass and barfed out his dinner. Henry scrambled up to his feet and touched Raichu's shoulder, "Raichu," he panicked, "Are you sick?!"

Raichu shook his head, "Rai Raichu."

Mark dared to take a breath, the air was fresh and cool as before, "It's gone," he said, "The smell's gone."

"We should have brought gas masks," said Henry.

"We're exploring a house, not a toxic waste dump. There is nothing in there that is going to kill us."

Mark pushed the door wide open and stepped inside, the beam of his flashlight lit up a small corridor. The walls were painted a bright tan color, slightly bleached and faded from age. The floor was wooden planks, they were covered with numerous dents and scratches from over the years. Mark played with the flashlight and took a second look at the walls. He couldn't find a single painting, there were only posters of reference material: Science, firearms, and machinery. Nothing about Pokémon however.

"It feels more like a workshop than a house," whispered Henry. "Is this what Tesla lived by?"

"Maybe he put the posters up himself."

"Maybe he suggested them."

"Maybe it was both."

Mark and Henry reached the end of the corridor and found themselves into a living room. The living room was spacious. Three brown sofas surround what looked like a custom-built coffee table. Before it was a large wood-burning fireplace. An old plasma screen HDTV was mounted over the fireplace, conveniently tilted to an angle. Next to the living room was a conjoining kitchen. The counter was clean and the sink was dry. The surfaces of the refrigerator, dish washer, and microwave appeared blemished and cloudy. Sitting between the conjoining rooms was a dining room table, padded folding chairs lined the table. Mark counted thirty chairs in all, there was enough room to seat an entire regiment of riflemen.

Henry walked up to the nearest light switch and flipped it. Nothing. "Power's out, which means the alarm's also dead."

The front door slammed shut, Emolga yelped while Mark almost dropped his flashlight. "Damn it!"

Henry shot a look at Raichu, "Rai Rai, did you slammed the door!?"

The Mouse Pokémon frantically shook his head, "Rai Rai!"

Henry jogged to the door and twisted it, "You gotta be kidding me."

"What's wrong, Henry?" Mark asked.

"Emo Emo?" Emolga asked as well.

Henry turned to Mark, his eyes wide with horror, "Something locked the deadbolt."

"Impossible."

"No, serious. Come look."

Mark jogged up to Henry and shined his flashlight over the locks. Indeed, they were firmly latched shut. "I didn't lock them, Mark," said Henry. "And neither did Raichu."

"I can see that," said Mark. "Even if the door hadn't locked itself there was no way it would slam shut like that. There's no wind outside."

"Could it be the ventilation system?"

"Do you hear it humming?"

Henry listened, then murmured a frightened tone. "No."

Mark could feel Emolga sink into her pouch, he glanced at the door for a moment then turned back to Henry, "So it shut by itself."

"Definitely by itself."

"With no logical explanation."

"Ghosts," whispered Henry. "This place is haunted."

"Haunted by memories," said Mark, "Remember, _if _there are any ghosts around they are amicable. They won't dare lay a finger on us, assuming they have any fingers."

"It's not the ghosts I'm afraid of, Mark, it's what they're trying to tell us."

_Ghost, _Mark thought, _why does all hauntings had to have an evil feel to them?_

Mark turned to the couch, he walked up to it and pressed his hand against the fabric. It was cold and stiff to the touch. He pressed his nose against it and took a deep breath, he wished he hadn't.

"Oh!"

He staggered back and covered his mouth, managing to hold in this night's dinner.

"What did it smelled like?" Henry asked.

"Raichu?" Raichu added.

Mark swallowed it back down and breathed. "It smelled worse than that tidal wave of stink we'd got from opening the door."

"We should had brought gas masks." Henry thought aloud.

"And we will, next time we come here."

"If there_ is_ a next time."

Mark turned to the wall clock, the LED face was dead, "Henry, you take half the house and I take the other half. Don't touch anything that looks fragile, and be careful what you come into contact with. If something happens, holler. Okay?"

Henry nodded, "Okay, Mark."

Henry tapped his Raichu on the shoulder. The Mouse Pokémon jumped. When he realized it was his trainer he hobbled behind Henry as they head over to the garage.

When Henry was out of sight, Mark turned his attention to the TV remote. He picked it up and pulled the battery compartment open, empty. He closed it up and sat it back down, "Maybe even the toilet paper's gone," he thought aloud.

Emolga let out a giggle, Mark pressed a hand over Emolga's butt and readjusted her, "Keep your ears open, okay."

"Em."

Mark walked around the dining table and opened up the refrigerator. It was warm and dark, nothing inside but stale air. Mark pulled open a few wall cabinets, every one of them was a void of empty space. No china plates, glass cups, nothing. He opened up some counter cabinets, no spoons or forks or chopsticks. His grandfather must had stripped the house of the essentials and auctioned it off for cash. It wasn't like anyone was going to move in, so why not strip it for its comforts and auction it all? Hopefully he hadn't gotten everything.

Mark peaked under the sink, nothing but watermarks and chemical stains. Mark stood up and stretched his arms, _There's gotta be a private study, maybe Irvin had a diary or something._

Mark found another corridor, he walked down it and opened the first door to his left. It was a bedroom. Four triple bunk beds sat in each corner. They were built out of wood, held together by wood glue and porch screws. The mattresses were removed, only the frames remained. Mark took a closer look. The beds were too small for a human to sleep in, but they were big enough for his Emolga.

_Had Irvin's Pokémon slept in these beds?_

No doubt about it, the late Pokémon Master often treated his Pokémon like human beings.

Like kids.

Mark grabbed one of the bunk bed posts and gave it a jolt. It held firm. "Pokémon used to sleep in these beds, Emolga. Maybe most of Irvin's Pokémon slept here."

"Emo," Emolga muttered.

As Mark was about to step out, a trace of the foul stench came back. It wasn't as strong as before, just a tiny trickle rather than a roaring river. Mark cleared his throat and shined his flashlight around, looking for any trace of the source. But there was nothing there.

_Had something got stuck somewhere and died? _

Could be, but where?

The smell faded just before Mark pursued the thought further, he stepped out of the room but left the door open. That way Henry would know that room had been searched. He stepped to the next room and opened it. The next bedroom was just as big as the last one, but the beds were bigger. They were big enough to hold Mark, and like the other bunk beds the mattresses were gone. One of the beds had several crushed bed-boards, whatever slept there must had weighed a lot. There was an empty spot where there should had been a bed, instead it was a thin slab of concrete no more than a centimeter thick.

Mark spotted a dresser at the far corner, he walked up to it and opened a drawer. Empty.

"Is everything stripped clean in this house?" Mark thought aloud.

His flashlight's beam grazed over the concrete bed, and something flashed. Mark raised an eyebrow, he got to his knees for a closer look.

It was a corner of a slip of paper.

_Jackpot._

Mark grabbed the edge of the concrete slab and lifted. It was heavy, no wonder it wasn't hauled out of here. He used all his strength and leaned the slab against the wall. Beneath it were handwritten notes, they were yellowing from age but more or less well preserved. Mark grabbed a sheet and shined his flashlight on it, they looked like they worth something. "Looks like we found something after all, Emolga."

"Emo?" Emolga asked.

"We've found something," Mark said again. "But is there more?"

Maybe, maybe not.

Mark laid down the concrete slab, he snickered, "Someone sure liked to lay on a hard place."

He stepped out of the room, and surveyed the corridor. There were other rooms to search, maybe with potential notes and diaries inside. Mark head to the next door and reached for the knob.

_THUMP!_

Mark froze, he pressed a hand on Emolga and listened.

He heard footsteps creaking above. It sounded light, and quick. Whatever it was, it was brisk. The footsteps went over the living room and ceased. Mark waited for a full minute for the footsteps to start back up, but it didn't.

_Is Henry up there? _

Maybe he had found the attic door and went up to investigate, but those footsteps didn't sound human nor a bi-pedal Pokémon. It was a quadruped, a four-legger, Mark's ears weren't in doubt.

_Had something moved in?_

Mark took a deep breath, if something did moved in they stuck mostly to the attic. This place would have been weathered by the elements if the new tenet broke into the main floor below. Hopefully it would keep to itself.

He felt Emolga shiver in her pouch, Mark scratched her ears and whispered, "What's wrong, Emolga?"

"Eem," she squeaked.

"You sensed something?"

The Sky Squirrel's black pearl eyes looked up at her trainer, she nodded. "Emo."

"Don't worry, Emolga. I'll protect you."

Mark kissed Emolga on the forehead and rubbed her ear, she purred as she snuggled right back into her pouch.

Mark turned his attention back to the door. He twist the knob and opened it, then groaned.

It was an empty room, a little smaller than the bedrooms but completely bare. Mark turned away, there was no need to step inside.

He went up to the bathroom door, just before he reached for the knob something shattered at the other side. Mark pressed his ear against the door and held his breath, from the void he heard soft whimpering. It was a Pokémon. The childish tone and squeaky voice made it clear enough. It was faint, like it was far away. Mark went through his mental lists of Pokémon cries to figure out what it could be. The cries sounded feminine, quite immature. Even similar to his Emolga's.

Mark tapped his knuckles on the door.

The crying stopped.

"Hello," he called out, "Are you okay in there? Is anything alright?"

No response.

Mark twist the doorknob, it was unlocked, "Hello?"

He opened the door ajar and stuck his head inside, the bathroom was pitch black. Mark shined his flashlight in as he slowly opened the door, "I'm not going to hurt you, whoever you are."

Inside was a granite counter that stretched across one side of the room, every available wall space over it was covered with a mirror. A dual-flush toilet sat at the far end of the room, next to it was a large spa bathtub that appeared big enough to house four people. Mark glanced up at the mirror, his own reflection stared back at him.

_Uh, okay, _he thought.

Mark turned around, his eyes widened. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Whoa," he said as he approached the walk-in shower, "That is one big shower."

Tiny nozzles covered the roof of the shower, jet nozzles stuck out from the sides. There were vents at the top for blowing out the steam and tiny holes lining the shower floor to drain the waste water. Mark stretched his arms out to see how big it was, they couldn't reach the sides. It was so big that 10 people could shower at once, _It's big enough to hold more than a dozen small Pokémon, _he thought.

The shower was paradise, a dream come true.

But where was the crying Pokémon?

Mark bend down and looked in the counter cabinets, empty.

"I swear I heard someone crying in here," Mark thought aloud, "Did you hear crying, Emolga?"

"Em," Emolga nodded.

_Okay, so I wasn't hearing things. _"Could be a speaker somewhere, maybe someone is playing games with us."

Mark twist a knob on the sink. Air hissed out of the faucet, then nothing.

"Dry as a bone."

Just when Mark turned to leave, the bathroom slammed itself shut.

"Sh*t!" Mark swore.

He rushed over to the door and grabbed the doorknob, it wouldn't budge.

"Motherf*cker!" Mark swore at the top of his lungs.

Not someone, but some_thing,_ was playing games with him.

Mark squeezed the lantern flashlight's handle, he took a step back and breathe, "Doors opening and locking themselves," he muttered, "And now I'm stuck in the bathroom, _again."_

"Emo!" Emolga whined, her body shaking madly.

He wasn't sure what to believe, ghosts or a house with a mind of its own. Mark sat down on the toilet and wrapped an arm over his Emolga. She was scared, her fur shaking loose. "Are you okay, Emolga?" he asked.

Emolga pressed her head against his torso, "Eem," she murmured.

Mark rubbed her ears and whispered, "There there, girl, don't be scared. I'm here for you. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

The lock unlatched itself, Mark and Emolga watched in silence as the door slowly creaked open.

Not a single soul stood before it.

"No one's there," Mark whispered. "Not anyone we could see that is."

"Emo," Emolga murmured worriedly.

When Mark stepped back into the corridor, Henry came jogging towards him, "I heard something slam and you swearing, is everything alright?"

"I heard someone, or something, crying in the bathroom. I went in to investigate and the damn door locked me in. I was just about to wait it out until it opened again."

Henry stared at him. "You're joking, right?"

"Why, what's your ghostly tale?"

"I searched the garage, it was stripped from tools and everything. Not a single bolt or wrench remained. Just when I was about to search the laundry room I heard footsteps up in the attic, then heard you swearing your mouth off."

Mark looked behind Henry and noticed Raichu wasn't there. "Hey, where's Raichu?"

Henry looked behind him. "Rai Rai, where are you?"

No response.

Mark groaned. "Really, this again!?"

Mark followed Henry back into the living room, their flashlight beams bobbing all over the place. They got to the living room and found the Mouse Pokémon sitting against the wall, his face was petrified with horror.

"Damn," muttered Mark. "He looked like he'd seen a ghost."

"Maybe literally," said Henry. He got down to his knees and held Raichu's face up, "Rai Rai, boy, are you okay?"

Raichu's black marble eyes turned towards him. "Rai . . . Rai Raichu, Rai," he whimpered.

Emolga gasped. "Emo!?"

Raichu turned to Emolga and nodded. "Rai Rai!"

"What are they saying, Mark?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good."

Henry grabbed Raichu's stubby arms and pulled him back to his feet, "Come on, Raichu, take it easy."

Raichu hugged his trainer and whimpered, "Raichu Rai!"

Mark reached into his pants and pulled out the stack of page, "I found these underneath a bed, I think a Pokémon written them."

"Why you say that?"

"Cause I found it in a Pokémon bedroom, the beds were small and they smell like sh*t."

Henry glanced at the pages, then looked up at Mark. "What else haven't we searched?"

"Irvin's bedroom," said Mark, "That's the last room we need to check out."

"Assuming that is the last room. What about outside, the barn and such?"

"That could wait some other time. Right now, Emolga's scared out of her mind. Just this one last room and then we're gone."

Henry nodded. "Okay, let's get her done."

Mark and Henry went back through the corridor, Raichu sheepishly followed behind as if he was preparing for a dramatic escape. Mark placed a hand over his Emolga and kept his flashlight pointed forward. He approached the bedroom, the doorknob gleamed a worn out shine under the beam. His heart raced, getting ready for whatever surprise that lay behind the final door.

He slowly opened the door to peek inside, then threw it open.

Inside the room was a king-size bed frame and two empty nightstands. A footlocker sat at the edge of the bed, it was an old olive green trunk with a few dents and scrapes. A dresser sat against the wall opposite of the bed, a fine layer of dust had built up on its surface. The most stunning feature were the bookshelves. The _entire_ back wall was a bookshelf. Like the rest of the house, it was empty. Whatever books or picture frames or trophies the shelves had held were long gone. Mark groaned. Another disappointment.

Henry said, "Well that was anti-climactic."

Mark walked up to the footlocker, it was locked shut with a padlock. His hopes started to rise. "Looks like we have something."

He pulled out his burglar tools and picked the padlock, within seconds it unlatched and Mark pulled it off. He sat it aside and opened up the trunk, he gasped.

Inside was a collection of leather journals, handwritten pages, photos, boxy USB drives, etc. Mark picked up some of the photos and shined a flashlight on them. In the photos, a variety of small Pokémon from all over the world pose for the camera. They were silly and happy without a care in the world. In some of the photos they were seen posing with firearms and guns. Assault rifles such as AK-47s and AR-15s, weapons few regions sell. Mark peered closely, there were no serial numbers stamped on the guns.

_Typical Irvin, as Tesla would say._

Speaking of Tesla, Mark found a picture of the Pikachu in question. He was standing before a white background in a casual pose. A little heroic, and confident too. The Tesla before appeared no different from the Tesla today: Barely smiling, showing little to no enthusiasm. A pale contrast compared to Irvin's other Pokémon. The only minute difference Mark could see was the goggles the old Pikachu wear to correct his vision. They were a brown leather frames with glass lens instead of black plastic frames with plastic lens.

Mark sat the photo back into the trunk, "We hit the jackpot, Henry. We hit the motherload."

"Should we haul the trunk to the pickup?" Henry asked.

"No, we'll just take the digital USBs and copy whatever files they have, then put them back where we found it around our second trip."

Mark scooped up the USB drives. There were twelve of them, each with 4 GB of space, with handwritten labels: _Boring Days, Fun Days, Sad Days, Holidays, _etc. Practically more than half of the USBs had labels ending with _days. _He crammed the USBs into his pocket and closed up the trunk, then slapped the padlock back on.

"Okay, let's get out of-"

A gunshot boomed in the backyard, causing Mark and Henry to jump. Raichu and Emolga screamed. "What was that!?" Henry cried.

"Sounds like a .357 revolver," says Mark. "A Python, perhaps?"

Mark and Henry got up and rushed back to the living room. Mark unlatched the sliding glass door and pulled off the security bar, the duo stepped out onto the back porch. The porch was huge and gray with age with occasional signs of rot. Mark looked out into the yard, black silhouettes of trees lined the background. The sky was dark gray save for Faraday City's ambient light to the north. The air smelled strong with fresh gunpowder, like a firearm had discharged.

But there was no firearm or shooter, no bullet holes or casings. Mark shined his flashlight across the vast field of wild grass, looking to see if anyone was running. He found no one, no matted grass or anything. No one was out there.

But it _smelled _like something happened here.

"Had Irvin put down his dying Pokémon by shooting them in the back of the head?" Henry asked.

Mark turned to him, but couldn't bring out an answer. His face was pale, stricken with contradictions of facts, "Uhh, let's close up all the doors and leave."

Mark and Henry head back inside, Raichu shut the sliding door and stuck the security bar back on. Mark reached up and locked it, then turned back to Henry.

He was staring down the corridor to the bedrooms and bathroom, frozen stiff, "Mark," he said, "All the doors were shut already."

Mark peered down the corridor, every single door he had left open was closed. He had seen enough, "Let's get outta here, Henry," he whispered.

They silently walked back to the front door. It just happened to be unlocked, Mark didn't realize it right away when he pulled the door open. Henry and Raichu ran out as Mark locked the door behind him. Mark jogged back to the pickup and hopped into the driver's seat. Henry was already seated and buckled in with Raichu snuggled by his side. Mark had to shove him into Henry just to get his seatbelt in.

Mark pulled Emolga out of her pouch and dumped her on his lap, then pulled off the sling, "What a mess."

He pressed the starter button and flipped on the dashboard lights. Henry gathered up the flashlights and killed them before shoving them under the seat, "Go, Mark! Go!"

Mark threw the gear in reverse and backed around, his tires spraying gravel everywhere. When the high beams lit up the gravel road, Mark nearly gunned it. When they got to the edge of the driveway, Mark made a sharp turn and sped down the deserted highway. The mailbox with the faded _Westinghouse _name shrinking in his rear-view mirror.

"Slow down, Mark!" Henry cried.

Mark eased off the accelerator, returning to the speed-limit. "Damn, that was tense."

"How long should we give it before coming back?" Henry asked.

"I give it three weeks, then we'll come back," then he said, "You want me to drop you off at your house or you wanna spend the night with me?"

"Uhh, I better spend the night with you," said Henry, "My house is empty tonight."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, I hear yeah."

Mark and Henry glanced at each other for a moment, then laughed. Nervously.


End file.
